Square One
by skauble
Summary: She’d dealt with amnesiac superheroes before; but the partying, womanizing, non-leather wearing version of Oliver Queen might just be more than even Chloe Sullivan can handle.
1. Prologue

Title: Square One

Pairing: Chloe/Oliver

Rating: PG13-R for now. If I decide to add some NC17 chapters I'll warn beforehand and provide an edited version if it's necessary to the plot.

Warnings: None

Summary: She'd dealt with amnesiac superheroes before; but the partying, womanizing, non-leather wearing version of Oliver Queen might just be more than even Chloe Sullivan can handle.

Spoilers: Spins off after Roulette, but consider all seasons potentially spoiled.

A/N: Here's the deal – I sometimes have trouble keeping track of SV's continuity with its characters either because it changes or because of events that have happened off screen. Oliver's history is shown in broad strokes, but not inordinately detailed that I can find. So part of this is going to refer to the period of time after he and Tess broke up. If there's something in canon that totally makes this impossible, please let me know and I'll find a way to adjust things accordingly.

* * *

**Prologue**

_Star City – 2013_

"Miss Sullivan," the doctor called out, but Chloe refused to acknowledge the man. She'd get whatever medical details she needed from Emil and her first priority was seeing that Oliver was finally awake with her own eyes.

Stopping in the doorway, she was greeted with a sight that had been eleven days in coming. There, in the upright hospital bed, sat a clearly awake and alert Oliver Queen.

The excruciating tension that had been crushing her was finally released in a shuddering exhale. Since the return of her healing ability she'd used it a number of times and it had always been the same – the injury gone and the injured restored to full health. The fact that, although all signs of damage had disappeared, Oliver had not awoken in almost two weeks had been a concern for his doctors, but a non-ending state of panic for those close to him.

The sound of her sigh of relief alerted him to her presence and he turned towards her; but the greeting on her lips stilled at the look she was receiving from the man who had slowly but surely become her best friend.

Looking her up and down, a smirk tilted his lips. Chloe had seen a dozen varieties of smirks on those perfect lips, but never one quite like that, and the confusion she was feeling was only increased by his greeting.

"Well, no uniform, so not a nurse. Good thing," his voice took on a silky tone, "because if they all looked like you I'd have to throw myself down random flights of stairs on a weekly basis."

Her overwhelming shock must have been evident as the smirk slipped. "If you happen to be my girlfriend, please don't be upset about the flirting. The doctors have told me that I'm suffering from a slight case of amnesia. Although I'd say that "slight" is an understatement if I've forgotten being with someone like you."

And the look was back. The one that would say seduction to almost every woman on the planet but only said creepy and wrong to her. Slowly backing out of the room, Chloe turned to find the doctor she'd blown off earlier. Maybe the details couldn't wait.

* * *

A/N: There's a post on my LJ about ways I can improve my writing. I've really appreciated people's comments and am trying out different things. So the style of this story might be a little different than usual. If you have comments about it, feel free to share. And if you want to leave concrit but are afraid of it being taken badly (which I totally understand), you can go to this post and leave a comment anonymously, or simply vote in the poll of problems I have.


	2. Chapter One

Note to all Chlollie fans: A friend and I have started a new Chlollie forum called "Behind Stained Glass – The Chlollie Online Forum". It has a message board and a chat room for squeeing. So if you're looking for a place to express the Chlollie love, think about helping us build a community there. The link is in my profile. :)

* * *

**Chapter One**

"Emil," Chloe exclaimed as the man she'd desperately wanted to see walked through the door. It wasn't that she doubted the information that the other doctors had given her; it was just that they didn't understand the larger picture. They didn't know the myriad of facets that made up Oliver Queen.

"Chloe, let's discuss this in my office," he said soothingly as he led her to the office he used when he was needed at Star City General Hospital. Closing the door behind them, he waited for the outburst he knew was coming.

"He doesn't remember!" Chloe was stating what at that point was the obvious, but it seemed to bear repeating. "He doesn't remember me or the League. Emil, he doesn't even know that he's the Green Arrow – that a Green Arrow even exists!"

"He's suffering from a form of retrograde amnesia," he agreed. "There is a significant amount of time loss, but the fall that he took was serious and, frankly, he's lucky he didn't break anything."

"Except his stupid head," Chloe muttered, once again cursing the zip lines he used to move through the city. "I don't understand what went wrong. Every time that I've healed someone they've been completely fine. What if something happened? What if I–"

"We can't know that," Emil cut in to what was fast becoming a panic. "Head injuries are impossible to predict."

She shook her head, reminding him, "Lex had a head wound and I healed him. He was just fine afterward."

Familiar with the case from his time studying the reappearance of Chloe's ability, he disagreed with her conclusion. "And tell me, did he remember the fact that Clark had gone wandering through his mind?"

"Well, no," she admitted.

Glad to see her calming some, he continued, "We know as little about meteor induced mutations as we do about the workings of the brain. There's no way that we can say with even the smallest of certainty that things should be progressing in a vastly different manner. We simply know too little."

Running a weary hand through her hair she gave him a weak smile of thanks before asking, "Do we maybe have some idea of how long this will last?"

Emil wished he had an answer for her. Chloe Sullivan was a strong woman, but he'd known her long enough to see the fear in her eyes.

"As I've said, there's so much unknown about the human mind," he admitted. "And amnesia on more than a very limited scale that is generally confined to the events occurring very close to the time of injury is an extremely rare phenomenon. We're hoping that his memories will begin to surface over the next few days, but Chloe," he cautioned, "we aren't even certain what's causing it at this point, so we have no way of predicting a resolution with any accuracy."

Her shoulders slumped at the confirmation of the other doctors' prognosis.

"So you're saying that we can hope that he'll be better soon, but we need to prepare for this to last indefinitely."

"I' m sorry, Chloe, but that's the best advice I can give you right now."

Laying a comforting hand on his shoulder she smiled into eyes just as tired as her own. "I know. I just…why?'

"As I said, we can't really determine why–"

With a weary chuckle she cut him off. "No, not why doesn't he remember. I just wonder why, of all of the places his memory could have decided to pick back up it had to be right where it apparently has."

Emil had been friends with both Oliver and Chloe for years; but no one was closer to them than they were to each other. If there was a significance in Oliver's new time frame, he had no doubt that it would be Chloe who would know about it.

"And the importance of his recollection would be," he asked curiously.

"Oliver's had his ups and downs in life. There have been times where he's felt like he's failing and he gives up for a while. But he rallies or, sometimes I…gently nudge him back into the fold. And he rises above it because he knows who he can be and the good he can do."

He waited, knowing the "but" was coming.

"But there was one period that was particularly difficult for him. He returned from the island he'd been stranded on, he pretty much imploded his relationship with Tess, and while there was a vague idea in him of wanting to do something better – be someone better, he hadn't gotten there yet, so he didn't have his past successes to hold on to."

Chloe's eyes closed briefly at the thought of all the pain Oliver had been though in his life, but forced herself to shake it off and continued.

"There was a small period between intention and action where Oliver dedicated himself to running fast and hard in the opposite direction of everything that he's become."

"So you're saying…" Emil asked with little hope for good news.

"I'm saying," she said with no small amount of frustration, "that according to the information I've gotten of Oliver's current memories, we've ended up with the shallowest, most reckless, womanizing, king of avoidance version of Oliver Queen that we could have gotten without actually beaming him directly from the past in the midst of a one night stand."

Tempted to smile at her obvious exasperation despite the gravity of the situation, he asked, "What are you planning to do?"

Because he knew, with unquestionable certainty, that the woman known as Watchtower had already formulated fifty plans, discarded forty five, and finally settled on one, keeping the other four in case of emergency.

"I'm going to do what I always do – take care of Ollie until he remembers the hero in his heart."

* * *

"Hello, Oliver," Chloe called out as she walked back into the room she'd fled earlier.

"Couldn't stay away? It's the hospital gown, isn't it? Women always go for the birds with the broken wing."

When his only response was the rise of a shapely brow, he looked at her more closely. "Interesting. Immune to my charm?"

"I was vaccinated when I entered your employ."

And that definitely intrigued Oliver. Not because he'd hired a beautiful woman. And not because she wasn't swooning at his uninspired attempts at flirting – which, in his defense, was usually all the effort that was required. No, what surprised him was that she'd shown up at the hospital. More than that, she'd seemed very concerned for him earlier.

"And just what is it that I've employed you to do?"

"Certainly not to listen to bad pickup lines," she told him as she set her purse and the papers she'd been carrying onto the table next to his bed.

"They're not that bad," he defended.

Giving him a considering look, she nodded and said, "I guess it's just that I've enjoyed the lack of them ever since you went ahead and came out of the closet."

"What?!" Oliver was fairly certain that wasn't something that would have changed with time, and was desperately searching the blank that was his memories when he heard a small snort of laughter.

"Giving an amnesiac fake memories" he asked. "Do you trip blind people, too?"

"If they're heading for the last cup of coffee I'd consider it," she admitted.

Oliver looked her up and down again, but with less lechery and more curiosity. "I must be a glutton for punishment for hiring you then."

"If that's the lead in to a bad spanking joke then the doctors here will be treating you for more than just amnesia," she promised.

The words were said with no animosity, and yet Oliver had the feeling that the small blonde standing next to his bed, rifling through papers, wasn't making an empty threat. Suddenly a sheaf of those papers was shoved into his hands.

"I'm Chloe Sullivan, your private personal assistant." She gestured to the papers he was holding. "That is your life. I run that."

"And I'm okay with that," he questioned.

Sparing him a glance before returning to her organizing she said, "You head a billion dollar company that has increased its profits every fiscal year that I've worked for you. Also, in that time you've faced no paternity suits, incurred no criminal charges, and the press no longer views you as a degenerate with poor impulse control, but as a society favorite and a 'connoisseur of women'."

He could see her distaste for the last description which she'd marked with air quotes. "And you're taking the credit for that?"

"Is the life that you remember running as smoothly," she asked, knowing the answer.

"Good point," he conceded with a shrug. And it was. If what she said was true then hiring her might have been the smartest move he'd ever made.

"So," he mused, "you put an appropriate public face on the secret life off Oliver Queen."

Chloe almost dropped the planner that she'd been holding at the unintentional accuracy of his statement. It was true, but not in any way that he could even begin to speculate.

Of course, the irony of the situation didn't escape her, nor did the difficulty. That a job involving her keeping his secret from the public had now become one of her keeping his secret from himself had increased the complexity of the situation exponentially. Because, while Oliver was in the midst of bout of heavy duty, self- destructive denial, he wasn't even remotely stupid.

"I'm your eyes and ears in the world. I pinpoint potential problems, smooth the way for you, and then watch your back so that you're free to pursue your goals," she told him, reasoning that it was a fairly apt description of her job.

And, again, Oliver heard that intriguing thread of steel that ran through her tone.

"Sounds full service. Do you bump off the people who get in my way," he teased. However his small faltered when her head tilted to the side and her serious eyes met his.

"If I don't ask you to dig the graves then I see little need for the question."

And then he finally saw it – the hint of mischief in her eyes, the ever so slight twitch of her lips, and he felt a sense of relief. He had to admit he believed her when she said she held an important place in his life. It wasn't just her words; it was all of it – her body language, the looks she gave him, her complete ease in his presence that screamed that she belonged there. And since she was clearly someone significant to him, he was glad that she probably wasn't a psychotic serial killer.

His fanciful musings of murder and mayhem were interrupted as she placed her small hand on his arm.

"Oliver, I know that you don't remember me, and I know that this probably seems very different from the life that you can remember," she said. "But please believe me when I say that I want to help you. Not just because you're my employer, but also because you're my friend."

There was no doubting the sincerity in her warm, green gaze, and he found himself wondering what had changed in the years he had lost. The last thing that he remembered about his life was the drive to gorge himself on the shallow pursuits that his money, fame, and looks afforded. He'd tried being more; thought that after his island stay, that maybe with Tess he could be someone better than he'd been. But he'd ruined that magnificently and he'd finally accepted that just wasn't who Oliver Queen was meant to be.

And if he was honest with himself – and the lack of alcohol made that painful easier – he loathed that feeling of failure. He hated that he was never going to be a man that would make his parents proud. And if he couldn't be that man, then he didn't see the point of denying himself whatever it took to make that sense of utter defeat recede, no matter how briefly. And so he filled his life with parties and drinking and meaningless encounters with people as cold and indifferent as he wanted to be.

Which was what made Chloe Sullivan such a startling addition to his life. While she was undeniably attractive in many ways that tugged at both his mind and his body, there was no doubting that she was a woman of substance. Her mere presence radiated purpose and determination before a single word left her mouth. She was everything he could remember avoiding and, frankly, she scared the hell out of him. But beyond that; beyond the fears and insecurities he rarely acknowledged, he knew one thing so deeply that it seemed to defy the bulk of his remaining memories.

He'd trust this woman with his life.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

It had been three weeks since Oliver had been released from the hospital and he was tired of the home bound existence to which he was being subjected. The day that he was released, Chloe invited herself to stay in one of the guest rooms in his Penthouse, and as he carried her luggage in for her, he had to admit that it didn't seem like it was the first time. The room was far more personalized then it had been during the time that he remembered. Various bottles of creams and perfumes were grouped on the dresser by the door and a large duvet was folded at the end of the bed. The comfort of the object was obvious, but it was so at odds with the sleek and modern design of the room that it had clearly been added by someone other than him.

Fortunately she had turned out to be excellent company, and he no longer had any doubts about her claim that they were friends. And even though he had a frustrating feeling that there were things about his life that she was withholding from him, her soothing presence had gone far to counter the maddening sense of not knowing about such a large part of his life. Which, of course, was a problem all its own.

Despite not remembering her, there was an easy intimacy with Chloe that left him feeling exposed and vulnerable. After Tess, he'd sworn off relationships that required more than the most cursory of emotional investments. He wasn't good at love and the pain he felt when he lost it just wasn't worth risking again. And while he and his assistant apparently didn't have that type of relationship, it still felt too deep, too personal.

That uneasy feeling ran through him again, and he knew that he needed some time away from his continued seclusion with the young woman who really did seem to run his life.

As if his thoughts had summoned her, Chloe walked through the door, dropping her keys onto the small table beside it.

"Hi," Chloe called as she turned to greet her temporary roommate, but her smile faded as she took in Oliver's attire. The deep blue silk shirt and tailored black pants lacked the formality of his business wear but were nowhere near casual enough for a night at home.

"Going somewhere," she asked.

"Actually I am."

It was the answer she was expecting, but not the one she'd wanted to hear. "Am I allowed to ask where?"

"You haven't asked permission to be bossy and demanding up to this point, why start now," he returned with an easy laugh.

"I'll have you know, Queen, that I'm quite capable of pretending not to be the boss of you when I want to," she said before admitting with a shrug, "I just rarely want to."

Oliver laughed again. He couldn't help it; he'd learned over the past few weeks that her good humor was infectious and he found himself hoping it would last as he answered her question.

"I've decided to go out. See how Star City's nightlife has changed since my last memory of it."

He watched as her smile once again slid away before a slightly forced version tilted her lips. "Actually, that sounds like a great idea. Just give me ten minutes and I'll be ready to go," she promised as she brushed passed him.

As she hurried from the room, Oliver stood there slightly stunned, unsure of what had just happened. Somehow his plan to spend some time away from the blond reminder of his current life and hopefully slide back into the life that he remembered had become, instead, even more time with Chloe. And her voice had been so final and her departure so swift that he hadn't even had time to protest.

Using her absence to try to find a way out of his predicament that didn't actually involve sneaking out of his own him, Oliver hadn't realized the amount of time that had passed until he heard the click of her heels. He turned, hoping some divine inspiration would strike, only to find all thoughts of discouraging her leaving his mind.

It wasn't that he hadn't understood she was beautiful; that had been his first thought the moment he'd laid eyes on her in the hospital. And while he found her professional attire strangely arousing, he hadn't been prepared to see her like this. Wrapped in a flirty dress that fell just short of her knees, silky material tastefully hugging her curves, she looked stunning. Thin ties left her shoulders pleasingly bare and mirrored the delicate straps of sandals that did amazing things to her already incredible legs, leaving him with thoughts that fell well beyond the realm of friendship. As if all of that wasn't enough, the material flowing over her like a caress was a deep, rich shade of emerald green and Oliver almost groaned at seeing her enveloped in the color that he thought of as his.

He tried keeping his expression neutral, but a frown tugged at his lips as he watched her breeze by. She hadn't even bothering to check his reaction and Oliver founded himself oddly insulted. It disturbed him that he found her so attractive and she couldn't even be troubled to notice. It wasn't that he was planning on making a move on her, but it would have been nice for her to at least acknowledge the fact that he was a man and that, even if they didn't take advantage of it, the possibility of a physical encounter was there.

Chloe forced herself to walk serenely through the living room and over to the closet near the door. She wasn't oblivious; she'd seen the interest in his eyes from the moment he'd regained consciousness, but she'd studiously ignored it because that wasn't who she and Oliver were. But she also knew that she was the only one who remembered that, and although he was trying to be good, the looks of interest that he frequently sent her way were beginning to play havoc with her senses. And so, in both of their best interests, she'd decided that the wisest course of action was to simply pretend that she didn't notice.

She heard him moving towards her and looked up at him with a bright smile asking, "Are we ready for an evening amongst the shallow and vapid?"

"Hey," he protested. "You do realize that I was a part of that scene you're talking about with such disdain."

"What makes you think I wasn't including you in that assessment," Chloe asked, fighting back her laughter as walked past him to open the door, listening to him mutter about unemployment and the benefits of male assistants.

ooooooooo

Chloe watched as the bartender passed Ollie another drink. She knew that her best friend had a high tolerance when it came to alcohol, but since she'd paid the man a rather hefty amount to make each shot a double, she was hoping that he'd start to feel the effects sooner rather than later. As it was she had her hands full trying to handle the swarm of surgically enhanced parasites that were trying to make the most of the presence of the handsome billionaire that hadn't been part of the club life for years.

Hearing what she was sure was meant to be an enticing laugh from a rather scantily clad brunette, Chloe watched as the woman ran her hand teasingly down Oliver's arm before making a husky promise to return momentarily. As he threw back another shot, Chloe silently slipped from her stool to follow her target to the bathroom at the back of the club.

Although Oliver was aware that he was well on his way to being drunk, he still saw Chloe vacate the post that she'd kept throughout the evening. He knew that she was still nursing her second drink and he wondered at the frequent trips that she'd been making to the restroom all night.

But mild speculation was soon replaced by the grim thoughts that had overtaken him as Chloe had spent the last few hours at the end of the bar calmly watching as he hit on any number of women. Although he reminded himself, for what felt like the thousandth time, that they weren't involved like that, he didn't think it would have killed her to be a little upset.

Goodness knew that he certainly had been as he watched a variety of men creep up to her and offer to buy her drinks in an obvious and pathetic attempt to get her drunk and take advantage of her. And if he'd stopped giving his full attention to the women who seemed to be interested in him, he didn't think he could be blamed. After all, Chloe kept insisting that they were friends and that she was entitled to take care of him; he didn't see why the reverse couldn't be true and so he felt it was only natural to keep an eye on her in case some club hoping loser tried to do more than just trot out a string of amateur moves.

And as much as he had been trying to distance himself with an evening of mindless entertainment, he knew that it was only the swift efficiency with which Chloe dismissed each man who dared to test the cool indifference that she projected that kept him from dragging her over to a table where it would be unmistakably clear that she wasn't open to clumsy advances and tired pick up lines.

It was both disturbing and confusing, but so was the mere existence of the friendship that he couldn't remember sharing with the small but fierce blonde. Having no memory of ever having a friend that would inspire the kind of loyalty that she felt for him left him feeling off balance and struggling to find some kind of footing in a world he didn't know.

"You know, if you want to get lucky you should probably leave the psycho girlfriend at home next time."

Oliver turned towards the voice that had interrupted his thoughts to find one of the women he'd been flirting with earlier that evening. He'd been considering possibly making a night of it with her, but then she'd wandered off and his attention had moved on to the next in a seemingly endless stream of willing women.

"I'm afraid there's been some wires crossed," he said as he smiled, letting his former interest show through again. "I don't happen to have a girlfriend just now."

A look of doubt crossed young woman's face, but she made no move towards him. Looking quickly over her shoulder, she turned back to him and offered some advice. "Then you may want to think about getting a restraining order against the blonde chick threatening to tase anyone you seem even remotely interested in."

Not bothering with a response, Oliver was up and crossing the crowded club in search of his interfering companion. Just as he reached the back hallway, his most recent drinking partner walked out of the women's restroom, looking pale and slightly sick. He saw her lose what little color was left as she saw him before turning and practically sprinting towards the exit of the club; a feat he would have thought impossible given the ridiculous height of the heels she was wearing.

Just then the door opened again and the blonde he'd been searching for stepped out. Before she could move out into the throng of dancers and back towards the bar, he grabbed her wrist, tugging her deeper into the dimly lit hallway until the music seemed to quiet and they were hidden by the shadows.

"What the hell are you doing," Oliver bit out as they came to a stop.

"You mean my using the restroom," she asked. "Not to kill the mystery, but I actually do that a few times a day."

Chloe didn't know how he'd found out what she was doing, but she knew the jig was up. She wasn't planning to lie about her activities, but she had to admit that it was slightly fun to wind him up. Since his accident they'd been hesitantly feeling things out, and she'd missed the irritable and prickly side of her friend. Few things were cuter than a grumbly superhero.

"Don't play innocent with me. You've been skulking around all night pretending that you were going to tase every woman I hit on."

Freeing her wrist from his grasp, Chloe held up a finger. "One, I don't skulk," she told him before raising a second finger. "Two, I wasn't pretending."

Oliver gaped at her easy confession for a moment before gathering himself once more. "Then we're back to my original question. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm protecting you. You know, that thing that I've told you repeatedly that I do."

"From a night of hot sex? You have my eternal gratitude," he told her sarcastically.

"Hey," she snapped. "This little outing caught me off guard, so it's not like I had time to plan or anything."

"You mean you don't have this scenario all worked out in one of your little notebooks," he asked mockingly.

"Actually, I do," she admitted. "I just couldn't think of a reason to swing by my place get the tranq gun."

Finally taking pity on him and his obvious battle to determine the sincerity of her words, Chloe stopped teasing him and crossed her arms, leaning back against the wall. "Name your three biggest business rivals here in Star City."

"What," he asked at the abrupt change of subject.

"Go ahead," she prodded. "Name them."

Running a hand through his hair, he took a minute before answering, "Bill Leighton, Arthur Buckland, and Marcus Werner."

"Retired, relocated, dead," she informed him before reaching out and gently laying her hand on his shoulder. "Oliver, it's not that you're incapable, it's just that right now you don't know who's out there gunning for you these days or how they'd go about getting close to you. You're making yourself a target and I know that you don't want that."

She watched as he acknowledged the truth of her words and the irritation drained out of him.

"So you're saying what," he asked. "That if I never get my memory back then I spend the rest of my days living in celibacy and cold showers?"

"Definitely" her brain said, but years of working around the surprisingly delicate egos of a group of heroes kept that thought strictly in her head as she said, "Of course not, Ollie. After all, Emil said that you're clear to go back to work on Monday, and then it will just take a little time to get the lay of the land."

"Well, since that's apparently the only lay I'm going to get for a while, I vote we head home," he told her as he took her arm and began leading her back down the hall.

"You're done partying," she asked.

"What's the point," he said with a wry laugh. "I'm a dieter at an all you can eat buffet. Besides," his eyes slid over to catch hers. "I think you've gotten me sufficiently drunk."

"You knew," she said with a crooked, slightly sheepish smile. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Who am I to turn down a free drink…or eight of them," he asked. "Besides, I thought maybe you were planning to take advantage of me."

oooooooooo

By the time Chloe pulled the car into the parking garage, the additional alcohol Oliver had consumed was finally hitting him.

"You know, Chloe," he said as she pushed him into the elevator and hit the button for the penthouse. "I've never had anyone threaten to commit assault for me before."

"Actually, you have," she told him with an indulgent smile. "And not just threaten."

"You've roughed people up for me," he asked as he waited for her to unlock the door. "That might just be the nicest crazy thing that anyone's ever done for me."

Closing the door, Chloe gave a surprised yelp as she was suddenly spun around and pulled close to Oliver who proceeded to dance her around the room.

"Oliver, stop," she cried out with a laugh.

Releasing her, he tilted his head as he pouted. "You got me drunk and you're really not going to take advantage of me. I don't know whether to be disappointed or touched."

"Be touched," she assured him and then gasped as he grabbed her wrists and ran her hands up his chest.

"Why thank you, I'd love to be."

Chloe peered up at him suspiciously as she pulled her hands back. "You can't possibly be this drunk."

The small smirk and the twinkle in his dark eyes were all the confirmation that she needed and she gave an amused huff as she turned to go change. But once again she gave a small cry of shock as Oliver caught her arm and pulled her down to sit next to him as he fell back on to the sofa.

He tilted his head back for a few minutes and just as Chloe thought he'd fallen asleep, his face turned towards her.

"Are you sure we're not dating?"

Resting her own head on the cushions she smiled softly and assured him, "We're just friends."

"With benefits," he asked hopefully.

"Yes," she nodded. "We have the benefit of experience. And that experience tells us that you and I aren't all that lucky in love. Risking out friendship would be insanity in light of our past."

"My relationship with Tess," he said with a sigh.

"Actually no," she told him, smiling at his surprise. "It was another relationship that seems to have left the deepest scars."

"Was she worth it?"

"I think so," Chloe confirmed. "But I might be biased because she's my cousin."

"Ouch," Oliver replied. That was definitely not what he'd expected to hear from the woman he'd spent the last few minutes hitting on.

"So what about you," he asked. "Where'd your scars come from?"

He watched as guilt and pain swirled in her bright green eyes before her expression closed off in a way he hadn't seen before.

"I was married," she said softly. "But things went wrong so fast; it overwhelmed us and we divorced soon after."

"Hey," he said, his hand moving to rest over hers. "Lots of people get divorced these days. That's not a reason to hide your heart forever."

He watched as her eyes squeezed tight before she opened them again and gave him a sad smile.

"We reconciled about a month later, but he died right after that."

"I'm sorry," he told her quietly. And he was. He knew all too well the loss she felt, and the guilt in her eyes made much more sense. It seemed like a betrayal to be the one to survive.

"I know."

The words felt like a promise to him; that despite how strange everything seemed, these feelings he had were truly his. They reassured him that the part of him that was locked somewhere deep inside knew this woman; had understood her grief and given her solace.

And as quickly as the grim moment had come it was banished by a heartfelt smile.

"But now we have each other," she told him as she stood, extending her hand to help him off of the couch. "You're the best friend I've ever had, Oliver Queen, and nothing in this world, certainly not sex, is worth risking that."

"I don't know," he pretended to consider her words as he went along with her need to lighten the mood. "More than one woman has used the term 'mind blowing' when describing a night with me."

With a look of pity, she stopped in front of his door, resting her hand on his shoulder to pat him sympathetically. "It's the money."

"Hey," he exclaimed, grabbing her hand as she turned to go and pulling her around to face him. She laughed and he found him transfixed by her bright smile.

"I hate this amnesia," he told her. "I just can't figure you out."

"And what makes you think that's the amnesia," she teased.

He wasn't sure what she saw in his expression, but she suddenly grew serious.

"It is the amnesia," she assured him. "You know me better than anyone else ever has."

He stood rooted to the spot as she leaned up to brush a kiss across his cheek. As she disappeared into her room, he turned to go into his own. Stripping off the clothes that smelled vaguely of cheap perfume, he smiled at the thought of Chloe defending his virtue with a stun gun.

Oliver had had friends in his life, but not like her. She said she would take care of him and he no longer had any doubts that her words were true. He would have suspected her of working an angle, standing by him to see what she could take him for, but all that she'd done, from interacting with his doctors to settling herself in his home, led him to believe that everything he had might very well have been hers for the taking for quite some time.

And yet he couldn't find it in himself to worry over than extraordinary fact at all. There was something he saw in Chloe's eyes that he'd never seen before, not even with Tess for all that they'd loved each other.

In Chloe there was a loyalty to him the likes of which he'd never known. It was more than just her words as she talked about their friendship; it was in everything she did. When she was nearby, the fear of the dark, empty spaces in his mind quieted. At first he'd thought it was about having someone there, but he was beginning to realize that it was about having Chloe there. The unshakable faith that he'd felt that day in the hospital that he could trust her with anything only grew with each passing day. And as much comfort as that brought him, he found that it scared him in equal measure.

Who was he to deserve that kind of devotion? What was buried in the darkness of his mind that would explain why a woman like Chloe Sullivan looked at him as if he was to her all of the things he was learning that she was to him? He wondered where the man had gone that had broken Tess's trust and just who had taken his place that made Chloe think that breaking hers was impossible.

But as much as he burned to know the answers to his questions, he feared them even more. Nothing in his experience could explain the man that Chloe seemed to see when she looked at him. What if he wasn't really that person? What if he'd been on his way to failing her like he had Tess; like he probably had her cousin? He didn't think he could take watching the faith drain out of Chloe's eyes to be replaced with disappointment.

Head spinning, Oliver stretched out on his bed. What was real and what wasn't seemed too large to tackle in the quiet darkness of his room. There were far too many questions spinning around in his head with no answers in sight. In fact, there was only one thing that he knew for sure. He'd lied to Chloe earlier; he hadn't had nearly enough to drink.

* * *

**A/N:** I put this at the end for those who want to skip it as it's not a note about this story. I've written a Chloe/Oliver story called "Worlds Apart". It's an effort to support the new Chlollie forum and so it's only posted over there. If you'd like to read what's posted so far, there's a link to it in my profile. Don't worry; you don't have to create an account to read the story. :)


	4. Chapter Three

**A/N:** Sorry if this chapter is a little off. SV ending has got me a bit catawampus.

* * *

On most days, Chloe would stop to admire the figure Oliver cut in his charcoal gray business suit setting off a deep emerald green tie.

As the Green Arrow, he exuded a raw power that was only magnified by the tight rein he kept on it. It was part of what made him so effective as a hero, even without the abilities that his teammates possessed. The way he held himself, muscles tight with a tension just waiting to be released; the way he spoke, the distorted timber of his voice not disguising the rough warning in his tone said, more clearly than words ever could, that he was a man that you crossed at your own peril.

And whereas Clark, who arguably had more power than almost any other person on Earth, countered his might with an Oscar worthy, absent-minded persona and a pair of glasses that she had to admit she was pretty sure she wouldn't wear even if it meant the government going alien autopsy on her, Oliver had taken the clever, unexpected path of retaining his aura of power, and simply refocusing it.

For a time he'd hidden his heroic exploits behind the guise of a flagrant womanizer. But while the press ate up every scandal, he'd reached the age where he knew that the business world would not be so forgiving. His respect for the legacy his parents left him and his understanding of how much Queen Industries actually contributed to the world convinced him of the need for a new way to avoid being connected to his alter ego.

Certainly no one would deny that, as head of Queen Industries, he had an abundance of power at his fingertips. The fact that he held the livelihood of tens of thousands of people in his hands, and that he routinely made deals for more money than some countries' gross national product, so dazzled people that it created an aura of power so far removed from the unrelenting, physical force that was the Green arrow, that it never occurred to anyone to connect the two.

And because she knew the duality of his identity, and because they were both genuine facets of his character, she'd always found the sleek silk of his Armani armor as arresting as the supple leather of his Arrow gear.

But as she stood there watching him skim the newspaper spread out on the large, marble kitchen island, it was different. Oh, he was still ridiculously sexy, but the fierce authority that stemmed largely from leading a team of superheroes, as opposed to board meetings, was muted. Of course, its mere existence gave her hope. Emil had told her that he believed that Oliver's memories were still there, simply not consciously accessible at the moment, and his attitude seemed to confirm it. Still, while she was encouraged on a personal level, on a business level she was concerned.

The fact that none of Oliver's business rivals would shoot him in a dark alley, didn't mean that the world of high finance wasn't cutthroat in its own way. He couldn't afford to be perceived as having any weakness. Well, she allowed, he had billions of dollars, so he probably could afford it, but not if he wanted to have all that money once his memory returned.

That was the main reason she was going to accompany him to the office that morning…not that he was aware of that plan. Dealing with Oliver since his accident had been trial and error. Where the consequences were minimal, she tried to be as hands off as possible and let him feel his own way through what his life had become. Unfortunately, there were many circumstances in his life in which the consequences could be quite dire. Chloe had learned that the best way to handle those situations was to ensure the element of surprise and then simply act as if it he was still the man who knew her and would not only trust her, but 99.9% of the time would have made the exact same decision. He balked, of course; he had the famous Oliver Queen stubborn streak without enough of the life lessons that had focused it into one of his greatest strengths. But he seemed to draw confidence from her confidence so it was a win/win situation in her opinion.

However, even knowing that she'd be victorious in the upcoming skirmish didn't mean that it wouldn't be exhausting. But Oliver was worth it; worth this effort and so much more, despite the constant reminders that her best friend was missing somewhere in his own mind.

With a small sigh she crossed the room to get some coffee. There wasn't a plan in the world that didn't work better when that was step one.

As he turned to the next page of the financial section, Oliver noticed Chloe in the doorway, silently observing him. But, as it always did, her need for coffee overtook her and as she poured herself a cup, he was given the opportunity to watch.

Living amongst the wealthy, the famous, and the highest circles of society, Oliver was all too familiar with the idea that looks could be deceiving. Although Chloe wasn't abnormally small, her shorter stature and the delicate build made her seem almost tiny. Especially given his substantial advantage in height. But once she turned her full attention on you…well, she was still tiny; just tiny and utterly overwhelming.

At first she'd just been slightly daunting. She seemed incredibly bossy as she threw out orders like a general and expected him to fall in line like a good little soldier, but it didn't take him long to realize that wasn't what was happening at all. Each day it became more and more clear that she knew him in a way that was beyond anything he could remember experiencing. She wasn't dictating to him, she was just so used to them being on the same page that, in her mind, it was almost a given that he'd been planning whatever she had all along.

Although there was a time when that would've infuriated him, the time period he could remember actually, he found it somewhat comforting instead. He was so afraid that this future life he found himself living was some kind of fluke; that he'd been on an inevitable course to ruin things just like he always did. But Chloe Sullivan was an amazing woman, and the implication that they were so often of a like mind allowed a tiny flicker of hope to light inside of him.

And that was what was so overwhelming. She made him feel things, want to believe in things again. When he was with her he wanted to be a better than the man he remembered. Not because it would make her happy, or impress her, or win her approval, but because he was beginning to believe that it was actually possible.

But, as always, that thought was quickly followed by the fear and doubt that threatened to swallow him whole as it had in the past. It was the same insecurity that told him he couldn't have a real relationship, make a real difference in the world. It was the reason that he'd destroyed things with Tess and went back to his playboy lifestyle. And as the sense of failure washed over him anew, he forced those thoughts away before they could consume him, and focused on the safer aspects of the woman before him.

She'd done her hair in gentle waves that framed her face, and the softness suited her despite the steel he knew that lay beneath. Her silky amber blouse buttoned up to her neck, and yet left her arms completely bare, and he'd never have imagined that the creamy white skin of those delicate limbs would have the same effect on him as a plunging neckline. But then he was beginning to realize that, at some point in his forgotten past, Chloe just might have rewritten his definition of sexy. That was the only explanation for the thoughts that went through his head every time he saw her in one of _those_ skirts. Because there were skirts, and he'd seen her in them – long and flowing, short and tailored – and then there were _those_ skirts.

Pencil skirts, he thought with a silent huff. If there was ever a duller name for a more exciting piece of clothing, he wasn't sure what it could be. Starting at her tiny waist, the dark material slid smoothly over her curves, and the modesty of a hemline that fell below the knees was lost as the deceptive garment highlighted in relief everything it would be assumed to conceal.

The worst part was that despite the effect that it had on him, he knew that what she was wearing was perfectly acceptable business attire for someone of her profession. There was nothing indecent about her outfit and, while he'd seen her receive her fair share of appreciation from the opposite sex, the attention wasn't unseemly.

No, Oliver was fairly certain that any problem that existed rested with him and what he was beginning to suspect might be an odd sort of fetish. Because every time he saw her in one of her seemingly endless similar ensembles, he had to stop himself from pulling her close and skimming his hands down the smooth fabric. Frankly, the only thing that kept him from taking the risk, "just friends" be damned, was the fact that she was scary as hell when she was mad and, no matter how much she denied it, he had a feeling that she might be a little more taser happy than she admitted.

"Stop that," Chloe told him without turning around.

"Stop what?"

"Stop checking out my ass," she ordered as she finally faced him, coffee in hand.

"Well, if you didn't package it so nicely I might be able to oblige," he said with a smirk that faded as he watched her take her first sip of the morning. As with her clothing, it was nothing overtly sexual, but there was an expression of pleasure and satisfaction that flitted quickly across her face, and he wondered if the slight thrill he felt at the sight was better or worse than his reaction to her skirts. Whichever it was, Oliver was finding it more and more difficult every day to believe that he hadn't had some kind of feelings for her that went far beyond the platonic zone Chloe insisted they lived in.

With a small scoff of exasperation, Chloe put the lid on her travel mug asking, "Well, are we ready?"

"Ready," he questioned, slightly confused. After his first week of recovery at home, Chloe had been gone for part of each business day doing, he'd assumed, whatever it was she did as his PPA. He had just expected that she'd continue that routine now that he was returning to work.

"Yes, ready. I know you own the company, but it still can't be considered to be good form to be late to work on your first day back," she told him as she moved past him to the living room to gather her coat, looking around for where she'd set her purse.

"Wait," Oliver called out, stopping her in mid-search. "I thought you were my _private_ personal assistant. Won't my professional personal assistant be able to help me at the office?"

"Absolutely," she assured him. "Justine is an excellent assistant. You're very lucky to have her. But Ollie, I don't just deal with your personal life. My job is to make sure your entire life runs smoothly – that includes a certain amount of familiarity with your business dealings."

"You've been there with me a lot," he realized.

"Of course," Chloe confirmed, surprised that he had thought otherwise. "I know that the scope of my job seems unorthodox, but – and I mean this without judgment – you can be kind of high maintenance. Not because you're a self-centered diva…anymore, but because your goals changed over time from lascivious lady-killer to dynamic CEO.

"Do you think that kind of transformation just magically happens," she asked him. "That the press decides to do you a solid and forget all your wild and reckless escapades? That the business community suddenly accepts that you're a fiscal surety? Because believing either of those things signifies a naiveté that I know you don't have now, and I'm pretty sure you didn't have during the time period you remember either."

Chloe felt bad that she was taking credit for the entire overhaul of his life. True, she'd pulled him out of the gutter after the nightmare that followed their encounter with Doomsday, but she didn't delude herself that he would have stayed out, turned his life around, if he hadn't wanted to. Oliver Queen was a fierce fighter, and though he might need to be helped up once in a while, he always came back swinging. It was one of the things she admired most about him. It was also, she acknowledged sadly, one of the things that she couldn't overstress to him at that point.

There was so much at risk, so much damage that could be done to everything Oliver has spent years building up, that she couldn't afford to let her emotions dictate her decisions. If she did that she'd probably have blurted out the entire story the day she'd learned about his amnesia.

Instead, she waited and watched, looking for signs not only of her Oliver, but that this version of him might be ready to handle the truth of who he'd become. And though she tried to be as honest with him as she possibly could, she was still left with a situation that was precariously balanced on half-truths and the creative coloring of past events. It wasn't the choice she wanted to make, but it was necessary and, more than that, Oliver had trusted her make it, to protect the team and his life's true work. And no matter how difficult it was for her, she wouldn't fail him.

So, pushing her regret aside, she continued, knowing that it was crucial make sure that he was ready to return to the helm of Queen Industries on his own. If he couldn't project the same power and forcefulness that he normally did, he'd be eaten alive, and as his best friend and his Watchtower there was no way in hell that she was going to let that happen.

"It's not that you didn't try it on your own. You were heading in the right direction, you just needed some help. That's what I do, Ollie; I help you – in your private life, in your professional life, wherever you need me," she told him. "And since you don't remember any of that process, I think it's probably a bad idea for you to go anywhere and wing it just yet."

At the still doubtful look he was giving her, Chloe wanted to throw her hands up in the air. But she knew how difficult it was for him without his memories, and she remembered how hard it was been, when they'd first met, for him to be so reliant on someone in situations that weren't hero related. So, checking her impatience, she took a deep breath and tried a different approach.

"Look at it this way; imagine that it really is years ago."

He frowned, but she was encouraged by the nod that followed.

"You decide you don't want to be known as an indiscriminate playboy who blows off business and blows through women anymore. You want to be known for something more than your party exploits and the number of notches on your bed post. So, what do you do to shrug off that womanizing reputation that characterized you in everyone's minds?"

That hadn't been at all what he'd expected, Oliver thought in surprise, but he didn't think the question was too difficult.

"Well, I guess I'd probably start with ending the random hookups."

"Yeah, because that wouldn't have the paparazzi all over you trying to figure out what you must be hiding," she dismissed. "Not to mention having to show up stag to every event you have to attend."

Okay, he admitted to himself, it might be a little harder than he'd thought.

"I could always try actually dating a nice girl," he said, but his triumph was cut short by a dismissive wave of Chloe's hand.

"And you'd know exactly where to find one of those how," she questioned. "One who would be overjoyed dating someone with your reputation, of course. And it wouldn't bother you at all that you were just using her?"

Growing frustrated with the hypothetical, Oliver shot back, "Well I dated your cousin, didn't I? Are you saying that she isn't a "nice girl"?"

Chloe didn't even try to hold back the shout of laughter at the jab. "You clearly don't remember Lois."

"Are you actually saying that your cousin's not a nice girl," he asked, confusion clear in his tone.

"No, I'm saying that Lois is Lois. I'm not even sure you could label her, but if you ever try, I'd go for something a little less pedestrian than "nice" if you don't want to hear about it for the next twenty years," she advised.

"And what makes her so different?"

"Well, for one thing, Lois doesn't concern herself with the opinions of stupid people," she informed him. "And she definitely wouldn't have cared what the paparazzi said said seeing as she was working at a tabloid when you two dated."

Chloe felt bad at his frustration and placed a comforting hand on his arm.

"I know that all of this seems strange to you because you don't remember me; but I do know you, Oliver," she assured him softly. "The wild life might have been fun in some ways, but we both know that's not why you were living it."

She could see the pain in his eyes, read the question there - did she really understand? And as much as she didn't want to make things any harder for him than they had been, she needed him to believe, without question, that she knew him, to trust her to help him.

"That life, for all the trouble it could bring was, ironically, about protecting yourself. Drowning the pain of what you'd lost; making sure you didn't have anything else to lose. Even when you had the chance with Tess you made sure that it ended as soon as it became too serious."

Oliver felt exposed as he listened to her drag what he'd always felt were his secret motivations into the light. And even the fact that what she said was true, that it proved he had trusted her at some point, couldn't chase away that raw, open feeling and he lashed out at her.

"And you what? Turned my life around with all your admonishing looks and your little lectures?"

Knowing that he was reacting to his own pain and fear and not really to her, Chloe ignored his tone and considered how best to answer his question. With a mental shrug, she realized that this was one of those places where she could be honest, and so she gave him the truth.

"Actually, I had you almost run down with a three ton truck," she said, watching his reaction, looking for signs that he was ready to know more of the truth.

Chloe knew that, after the taser incident, he wouldn't freak out to the point of firing her. He was a man given to extremes when it came to dealing with both his feelings and his failures, and so there seemed to be an odd acceptance of her using those same methods. It was just one more thing that made her believe that he was being subconsciously influenced by his memories.

Still, she pushed back the smile that threatened to break free as Oliver gaped at her. Even though he apparently wasn't ready to hear the truth, yet, she couldn't help but wonder what his reaction would be to learning about his other life – that he was a leather wearing, arrow shooting hero, who led a League devoted to eradicating evil and protecting the world. Given the still gob smacked look he was giving her, she didn't think he'd handle it well. Humorously, but not well.

"As a publicity stunt," he asked, finally. "Garner public sympathy, clean up my image?"

"No," she replied casually as she watched his expression change from his clear uncertainty of her sanity, to a doubting of his own. More to bring him out of his stupor than from any real defensiveness on her part she snapped, "Hey, it worked, didn't it? So you can just keep your Monday morning quarterbacking to yourself."

And Oliver honestly had no problem staying silent because he had no idea what he could possibly say to that. Frankly, he'd have thought she was completely psychotic if it wasn't for the fact that he'd searched the internet for information on his life as soon as he'd been released from the hospital. Every claim that Chloe had made to him about his life was true.

His business had never been better, he was respected by the financial world, and loved by the press. Whatever she'd done, no matter how extreme it seemed to him at the moment, he couldn't deny two things – it had undeniably worked, and he'd clearly approved since she was still in his employ. And those two things, in combination with the unshakable belief he had that he could trust her, made his choice remarkably easy.

"Okay then, let's go."

"Really," Chloe asked, clearly surprised. "You'll let me come with you?"

"Yeah," Oliver nodded as he grabbed his briefcase and headed towards the elevator. "If I don't you'll probably hit me with a bus."

"Hey, I didn't actually hit you with the truck, you drama queen" she called out indignantly as she finally located her purse and rushed join him in the elevator, their good natured bickering echoing behind them.

* * *

oOoOo

* * *

"Okay, Romeo, that's enough," Chloe said, rounding on Oliver as he closed his office door behind the statuesque VP of marketing he'd flirted with up until the moment she left.

"Enough?"

"Seriously," she asked in exasperation, "you can't just own up to what you're doing so we can get the arguing done quickly and move right to the part where you do what I want."

Leaning back against the heavy, wooden door, Oliver gave the matter some thought. He enjoyed the lead in to their fights as much as he liked the arguments themselves. He'd never really fought with someone that wasn't going for the jugular, be that physically, financially, or emotionally. But with Chloe it was a completely new experience.

Chloe didn't fight with him because she wanted to hurt him, but because she wanted to protect him; because she cared. And he could admit, if only to himself, that sometimes he played the innocent to prolong the exchange. It warmed something inside of him to have someone willing to struggle so hard for his happiness. However, Oliver had larger goals in mind at that moment.

"You know," he pointed out as he complied with her request. "You were the one who wouldn't let me sleep with strangers."

"Oh my god, are we still on that," she asked, throwing her hands up. "Let it go, Oliver."

"Let it go? You threatened to tase those women," he accused.

"Only the ones trying to sleep with you for your money," she bit back in defense.

"They were all trying to sleep with me for my money. That's one of the best things about being rich," he practically shouted.

They glared at each other in silence for a few minutes, each daring the other to speak first before Chloe finally gave in.

"Okay then, yes, it was all of them," she grudgingly conceded. "But I think we can both agree that was due entirely to your poor taste as opposed to any kind of inappropriate aggression on my part. Besides, you wouldn't really want a woman who wouldn't take one, tiny jolt of electricity for you, would you?"

And he laughed. It was partly because she was absolutely adorable when her frightening protective measures weren't directly aimed his way, but mostly it was because he'd learned there was nothing else to do when she said things like that.

Sometimes it seemed as if Chloe lived in a world where everything was larger - events more intense, situations more dire - than in the world he saw around him. When she felt something was important, she committed with a kind of focused dedication that left him exhausted just watching. And the fact that not only had she threaten to tase random women and apparently almost ran him down with a truck, but spoke of both things with such ease, meant that she was either utterly insane or, as he'd begun to suspect more and more, he was missing something.

The idea that she was holding something back was strangely less upsetting than he would have thought. Knowing her, even for the short time he could remember, it seemed almost inconceivable that she was doing something to harm him. Beyond that, he still had a gut feeling of faith in her that he knew had to be the product of the memories he couldn't access.

Still, it was intriguing, and just because Chloe felt it was best for him not to know in no way meant that he wasn't going to do all that he could to figure it out. It was one of the reasons that he was grateful to be cleared to return to work, because the resources he had available to him there far outweighed those he was limited to at home.

But even solving that mystery wasn't his current goal, and so he set those questions aside. Pushing off the door, he crossed the room to rest against his desk in front of her and gave her a considering look.

"So I can't date strangers, I can't date people I know, and I can't date you," he summed up. "Unless you can guarantee that my memory will return sometime soon, one of those rules has got to give."

All at once Chloe understood what was happening and she couldn't believe she'd walked into his setup so blindly.

"I thought we cleared up the issue of us...or the lack thereof."

"The lack of issues," he asked innocently, as his eyes danced with mischief.

"The lack of us," she ground out, frustrated that they were back on that subject.

"Actually, I've been giving the matter a lot of thought and I think the problem we're having is that your too close to everything to be able to make an unbiased decision," he told her.

Wondering if his brain was having more problems than just memory loss, she asked him, "I'm too close to everything? You do realize that I'm the only one of us who actually remembers anything about our relationship."

"Exactly," he agreed in satisfaction. "You're so caught up in those memories and the friendship box you've shoved us into in your mind that you've convinced yourself that neither of us wants to break out of that. But without whatever excuses I used to convince myself to go along with that, it's painfully obvious to see that I'm very interested in having more than that with you."

Sighing, she sank down into the chair behind her and fought the urge to bury her face in her hands.

"What is it that you expect to happen here, Oliver?"

That was the thing; he wasn't completely certain. The whole point of ruining things with Tess was so that he was out of the type of relationships that called for the commitment he felt he was inherently was unable to give. And since Chloe could hardly be classified as a casual lay, it seemed completely counterproductive to pursue her.

But, in the end, it all boiled down to the fact that he had to know.

With so much money and so little guidance growing up, Oliver had spent much of his life as a spoiled, little rich boy. As such, he knew that he had a weakness for the few things in life he that it seemed he couldn't have. Part of him wondered if Chloe fell in to that category. Most of him hoped she did.

Just thinking of a relationship with a woman like Chloe made his chest feel tight as the panic rose inside of him. But everything he learned about his future self said he wasn't the man he remembered. Somewhere along the way he became someone solid and trustworthy; someone that Chloe spoke of with admiration…at some point, he grew up.

From what he'd observed and what he'd experienced, he was convinced that the Oliver trapped inside his head wanted more than friendship with the beautiful, stubborn, fascinating blonde. It felt almost like it would be a betrayal of the man he was to become if he didn't take advantage of his hopefully temporary lack of inhibitions concerning his best friend.

And if they went out and the spark he felt fizzled, well so much the better for him. He wanted to be true to that other him, but he also wanted to be who he was at that moment. All that man wanted the oblivion of some good alcohol and some bad women. And if things really were as Chloe claimed, then he could get back to those pursuits all the sooner.

So, ignoring her less than encouraging reaction, he laid out his plan.

"Have dinner with me."

"We have dinner every night," she pointed out dryly.

"You know what I mean, Chloe," he chided. "One dinner out. You and me, on a date."

She was fairly certain of the answer she was going to receive, but couldn't help but ask, "And if I say no?"

"Well, that's certainly your prerogative," he said with an understanding nod, before adding, "but even with my lack of recollection, I can't believe the future me was the type of man to give up easily on something he wanted. Was he?"

"If I told you that you were an ardent quitter, would you give this up," she questioned hopefully.

Oliver's head was shaking a negative even before she finished the question.

"Absolutely not. I'd just see that as one more mistake on my part that I now have the opportunity to rectify."

Reaching out, he caught her hand in his and ran his thumb over her soft skin. The warmth that flared where they touched strengthened his resolve.

"One dinner, Chloe," he bargained with a smile designed to entice. "If it's really that bad then I'll drop the whole thing, but at least we'll know for sure."

"What makes you think I'm unsure," she countered, even as she pulled her hand away from his caress and the unfamiliar flutters it caused in her stomach.

"Then _I'll_ know for sure. And believe me," he promised as he leaned back against his desk once more, "that would be in your best interest."

"Really," Chloe questioned doubtfully, an eyebrow rising in the face of his cocky confidence.

"Yes, really," he confirmed. "Because you're not the only one who can buy deceptively innocent looking notebooks and fill them with battle plans."

"Please tell me you're kidding," she practically begged, knowing that whatever incarnation of Oliver Queen he was, he could manage to be both a rock and a hard place all on his own and she couldn't afford to get caught in the middle.

With a non-repentant smirk and a shake of his head, he all but boasted, "Not even a little. A page for each plan and I'm already twenty four in."

"Twenty four," she practically whimpered in self-pity, no longer fighting the urge to drop her head in her hands.

"Well," he admitted, "the last one's more of a work in progress because I haven't quite figured out how to how to get all those elephants through customs."

Her head shot up, green eyes wide, until she realized he was just teasing her. But beneath the playful exterior, she saw a steely determination that made her heart sing at its familiarity and fall at the fact that it was being directed at her in the worst possible cause.

Then again, she thought, maybe it was for the best. If she went with him on this one date then he'd be able to see what she saw, what Oliver saw when his puzzle pieces were all put together – that they were just friends, nothing more. And once he figured that out, they could get back down to the business of retrieving his memories without the pointless distractions.

"One dinner," she allowed, adding firmly, "And no gloating. It's unattractive on you."

He smiled, but without any smugness. "Of course I won't gloat...but, for the record, we both know that I'd be totally hot if I did, right?"

"At least it's clear why you thought you'd need twenty four plans," she said with a huff of amusement.

"Twenty three," he corrected. "That last one was just wishful thinking."

Even though Oliver knew that this would be a good thing for them, he still felt bad as he watched Chloe's shoulders slump slightly.

"Hey," he said, hooking a finger under her chin and nudging her gaze up to meet his own. "You won't regret this."

"Too late."

Dropping his hand he gave her a measuring look. "So the whole "having faith" thing only applies to me."

Chloe sighed again, knowing that he had her there. Even though she could back up many of the claims that she'd made, she knew that he'd extended an incredible amount of faith after his accident. It was yet another bit of hope that his memories were in there somewhere, locked away, but still guiding him.

"I don't generally do faith," she confessed. "I prefer trust."

"The difference being?"

"The difference being," she explained, "that faith is the belief in something despite a lack of factual evidence, whereas trust is the belief in something because of past experiences that have created such proof."

"But I've had faith in you," he pointed out.

Green eyes locked with his, and Oliver fought not to shift under the intensity of her gaze. He wasn't sure what she'd been searching for, but whatever it was she seemed satisfied that she'd found it because she gave a small nod and he knew she'd reached a definite conclusion.

"You have, and you certainly didn't have to," she acknowledged. "I know I don't say this enough, Oliver, but you're the best friend I've ever had. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't let me help you through this. Like always, you manage to save me while I'm busy saving you."

Again, Oliver was struck by the idea that there was a world of meaning in her words that he could hear, yet not understand. But he knew that it wasn't the time for riddle solving, and so he tucked her words away for later examination and kept his focus on Chloe as she continued.

"But I need you to understand that this is a huge thing you're asking for. I know you don't remember me, but I think you know enough by now to realize that you don't want to be the one to nail the lid shut on my dying belief in happy endings"

"Chloe," he said softly, but with absolute promise in his voice, "I may not remember you, or recall our friendship, but I don't need to know those things to understand that I don't ever want to be someone who hurts you. Not because you'll be important to me later, but because you're important to me now."

The sincerity in his dark eyes captivated her as his words soothed away her some of fears, and as he smiled down at her, the expression was so achingly familiar that her heart clenched at the sight. Nodding her acceptance of his promise, she was surprised to feel the tension in the atmosphere fade away, as suddenly as it had come.

Deciding not to tempt fate, Chloe stood, grabbing her purse and the files she'd been working on. Oliver had surprised her with just how well he had handled his business dealings throughout the day and, once again, she was encouraged by the fact that more and more facets of his future self were coming through. Since the reason she'd practically forced him to bring her along was just to make certain that he had a good handle on things, she felt safe in leaving him to his business while she took care of their other interests.

"Well, now that I don't need to worry about you accumulating a string of sexual harassment lawsuits, there are some errands I should probably see to."

The teasing smile she sent him assured Oliver that hadn't actually been her reason for accompanying him to work.

"Be ready at seven," he told her.

"Tonight," she asked, realizing she hadn't left fast enough, after all.

"Yes, tonight," he confirmed. "Since all of your evenings up until this point have been spent guarding my imagined virtue, I'm assuming that you don't have other plans."

"Well, I could be sneaking out every night to go partying with hot guys. You don't know everything about me."

And that was an understatement if he'd ever heard one, Oliver thought.

"I sleep pretty lightly, so unless you're going out the window, I sincerely doubt that," he scoffed. "And if you are going out the window, please let me know. Because you have your quirks…your scary, scary quirks, but scaling buildings seems just slightly past the line of sanity."

Suddenly, for the briefest of moments, he saw her whole body tense. He wasn't sure what had caused it, but he had a feeling he'd just found one more clue in whatever mystery was playing out around him.

"You'll be okay here, right," she paused to ask.

The question shook him out of his musings and he realized that Chloe had made her way over to the door while he'd been lost in thought. Pulling a face at the implication of her question, he rounded his desk and dropped into his chair, ready to get back to familiarizing himself with his company.

"In my office, in my building, that houses the headquarters of my company? Yeah," he said, sarcasm thick, "I think I might be able to survive in your absence."

"Ah, there's that legendary Queen charm," she mocked in return. "You certainly know how to make a girl feel wanted."

Suddenly the tension was back as his gaze burned a path down her body.

"I doubt there's a second of the day that you're not wanted by someone."

To his utter delight, he watched in surprise as a light blush tinted her cheeks. He took it as a positive sign that that she might just be susceptible to his flirting. But as quickly as it had come, the moment was gone and she just rolled her eyes at him on her way out leaving a very frustrated Oliver wondering if he was actually making progress or just slowly immunizing her.


End file.
